Turnabout
by ErethrenGarav
Summary: oneshot, completed, kicked off by 'Desensitised' so be sure to take a squiz before jumping in this deep end. MY end to FEAR2: Project Origin. Newcomers, PLEASE read the note at the beginning.


_**Turnabout**_

_Summary: A different take on the end of 'F.E.A.R 2: Project Origin'. Rough one-shot. Compliment and follow up to 'Desensitised' _

_Disclaimer: don't own anything, don't profit from anything, leave me to my dark, confused, insane solitude._

_A.N I am a disturbed person, F.E.A.R is a disturbing story if you don't like Alma, in any capacity, this is not a fic for you. Take it how it is. It is strange and obsessive. This is FEAR, a happy-ish ending but its still FEAR nonetheless, and its heavy stuff. Some of you maybe used to it, some of you won't. _

_**You have been warned**_

I needed her.

At my initiation, it started with something very simple. A subtle turn of my head into the taught, delicate, milky skin of Alma's neck and breathed in, even as her soft lips rested on my neck, inhaling a scent I could only place as mine. I imagined it unpleasant; I'd been slick with sweat from my exertions and ordeals for hours now. Caked with grime and dust from explosions and firefights. Probably still smelt of gunpowder and blood.

For god's sake I'd _WALKED_ though people to get to here. With absolutely no heed to the bloody deluge I'd made of them if they gave a **single fucking thought** to standing in my way.

A gentle, sweet scent accosted my senses. She was rigid, still in my arms even as her weight pressed onto my chest, as my undemanding probes stretched out, memorised her, painting a matchlessly meticulous mental picture. I felt almost overwhelmed by everything I felt, a compressive feeling in my chest, yet also weightlessness, like freefall. I couldn't tell whether that was her presence, or my own feelings, maybe that's why they call it 'falling' in love...

Jesus-fucking-Christ… that's a revelation for the history books;

'Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I've got a bad case of-'

'Necrophilia.'

Well… how the hell can she really be 'dead' when she's as real to me as the air that I breath? How can she really be 'dead' when reality warps and bends to suit her will? Is it really that much of a stretch of the imagination when you take into account that she cannot really be 'dead'. Her body is no longer bound to physical rules, she can make herself whatever she wants, be it emaciated corpse, an eight year old, or a far… FAR too attractive woman. Reality is what she makes it, and I'm just stuck in the middle. I shouldn't have to even mention her consciousness- it's everything I see.

My fingers shifted in their places, my right hand at the small of her back, dragging across the small valley of her flesh. My left, cradling the back of her neck to me, pulled, digits barely sinking into all too real, corporeal muscle, trying to ease the tension they felt. She started to relax, very slowly - agonisingly slow - still shaking from time to time as my movements created ripple effects across her body. It was maddening as reason for her shaking caught me, like a fist to the jaw; she was apprehensive, I hadn't given her an answer to her query. 'Can she keep me?'

Can she keep me? My fingers grasped her neck and she allowed me to bring her back slightly, putting some distance between us. Her eyes, dark, expressive, frightened. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as she tried to remain still, in control, silently pleading for an answer. One I intended to give without a doubt, hesitation or second thought, because it was for once, what _I_ wanted as well. Not a barked order, not a mission file, objective. Nor was it the will of someone who found me attractive, of which I'd had more than I could stomach. A word wouldn't have enough substance, a thought as trivial and frivolous as its creator. So it went once again to action, to show the answer and commit.

It was an almost explosive movement, when I pushed myself upwards and forwards, my grip on her suddenly tight, supporting and protective. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her eyes shut and she gave a little yelp of surprise as I brought us to the wall of this spherical shell. My knuckles hit the hard metal as my palm cradled the back of her head and her bare skin pressed against its frozen coolness. Her shivering intensified and she had started to pant. She froze again when she felt the pressure I had exerted on her, pushing into her, pinning her to the wall as it arched up around us. I stopped, bare centimetres, if that, from her face and watched unreadably as her eyes cracked open to stare into mine, still unsure, vulnerable. A complete turnabout of the situation, now I had the control, and for once, I felt I wasn't deluding myself. She was at my mercy, not the other way around. And that was when I let myself lean closer, slowly. She frowned, confused. I had to stop myself from smiling, she had no clue what was about to happen, nor what I intended. _Perfect_. Her eyes shifted closed, as if on instinct, and mine followed suit, her light, shaky breaths washed over my face like a tide as the chasm between us disappeared.

I kissed her. Her arms snaked around my neck, under my arm, hands pressing into my shoulder and my shoulder blade, pulling me closer. Not something truly possible but that didn't stop her from trying. She let out a muffled whimper of indefinable, ineffaceable pleasure as my tongue swept across her silken lips and into her mouth, neither demanding, nor forceful but simply natural, simply _right_.

The metaphorical parallel of meshing cogs simply didn't do our interaction justice.

There was _nothing _as natural.

Our tongues met and our senses fused, Alma tilted her head with a moan trying once again to deepen our contact. Harder and harder she pushed and pulled at me, trying to get more, more contact, more pleasure. I pulled away, briefly, she was reluctant to break contact, incredibly so. Leaning forwards to keep our lips connected, she mewled weakly as we broke, only to remain satisfied as my lips returned to hers, but this time with tender, soft, slow movements.

It was like floating on your back in cool water when the air around you was dry and hot. Like the heat of a piece of metal spitting and cracking with unparalleled fury and spite as it lost its heat to the water, your own parched existence is quenched. I drew back briefly, fingers threading through her silken hair. A low rumbling laugh escaped my throat and had her almost shaking in pleasure. I gazed at her half lidded eyes through my own, my nose flicking hers playfully as I retreated from her lips.

"Does that answer your question?"

Her swollen lips curled into a soft smile that reached her eyes… her hands cupped my face as she pulled herself towards me again, her voice resonating through me.

'_Yes….'_

Somewhere in embracing her, my thoughts wandered to the long trail of dirty secrets that eventuated in Alma's… well… death. A cold rage overcame me like an avalanche. Alma cried against me as things shifted. Reality came back to me like I'd been dropped into it from orbit. My mind's focus was a pinpoint, she was still there… semi corporeal, clinging to me. Her now suddenly terrified voice echoed through my head as my eyes took in the numerous, small blue lights of the mental focusing sphere… or whatever the hell it was.

'_Please stay… don't leave me. Please'_

She begged. Without hesitation I plunged back into that place with her…

"I'm sorry… but things need to happen."

My arms had enveloped her quickly… she had not resisted… things seemed clearer now.

"I have loose ends to deal with… and I'm sure you have some of your own."

'_But- but I want you to stay… why are you leaving?' _

Her mind was that of a child's, innocent, naive, unfocused on all but a single objective… me…

"Listen to me Alma… focus… I am yours… and will always be yours… but I need my own focus now… you need to stay with me… I want to take you away from here, from all this fucked up mess that led us to this point… I want to take you away from this hell but before I do that… I need to do something else."

Those bright amber eyes looked at me imploringly… begging me not to go… and for all of what I am… a callused soldier with the blood of hundreds of battles on his hands… it broke my heart to see her like this… so close to control yet so pained… she had only ever known pain… and now when she is granted a reprieve and sanity starts to slip back to her, she realises just what faces her if she loses that again.

It seems like an eternity before she nods reluctantly.

My vision once again snaps back to reality and my chest constricts as I feel her cling to me. I stand… my joints feel unbearably stiff. I groan slightly before refocusing on her…

"Stay with me… and remember how I feel."

In a miasmic flash and a slight headache I see her face, smooth and for once… relaxed… adorned for the first time with a soft smile…

'_I remember…'_

My eyes slide shut and I concentrate… the fire blasted landscape returns… but now it is startlingly empty, but for a thin tree, next to of all things, what looks like the control switch just outside the amplifier.

My eyes open… and so does the sphere in a whir and whine of hydraulics. I stare into the empty room. The bitch is nowhere in sight… not on the catwalks or at the now activated control panel… However… I can hear her voice… self assured… like she has an ace in the hole and knows her opponents hand.

"_I_ have Alma contained… and unless you want me to simply let her loose again, I'll tell _you_ just how this is going to end…"

Suppressing any tangible anger so as not to trouble Alma, I take a heavy step out from the amplifier and draw my sidearm…

"**Oh Arestide?**"

**Hope you like it... trying to get a swing back or a funk... whatever back or even a new one established since I've been updating jack all for a damn long time.**


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